The Nutcracker
by blue peanut m and m
Summary: Trying to bring an ill Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger. Wee-chester Christmas fic.
1. Chapter 1

**The Nutcracker**

**Summary. . . . . . . Trying to bring an ill Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . My belief in Father Christmas died this morning when yet again he failed to bring me Sam and Dean, they're still not mine I'm still loaning them.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . This years Christmas fic from the Peanut, I hope you enjoy. **

**Thanks to Darksupernatural for thinking I had a good idea for this one, and for being a truly great friend. I look forward to the party's in May when I make my first trip Stateside.**

For the first time ever Dean Winchester was sitting in last period history praying for the bell to ring, not because it signaled the end of yet another school day, or because it was the last class before winter break, but because he had plans; plans that included making his favorite person in the whole wide world happy. Sam.

He'd been feeling bad for Sam all week, his younger brother really did have the worst of luck when it came to his health, yet again falling ill to a particularly vicious strain of flu just as the Christmas holidays approached, forcing the youngster to become bedridden, and a bedridden Sam was not a Sam you wished to be around; his normally over active twenty questions a minute brother becoming quickly cranky at being forced to stay still and quiet due to his migraine and scratchy sore throat. Which was the reason why Dean had planned this little outing,

It hadn't helped Sam's mood when their Dad's nerves had finally shattered after spending the week looking after him and he had taken up a hunt, leaving last night, a hunt that meant he would yet again be away for Christmas and had meant that Sam had to spend the day home alone whilst Dean was in school; a fact that Dean wasn't too happy about either, not his Dad being away, but the fact that Sam was left alone. So Dean had spent most of the day with his thoughts flittering between wondering if Sam was okay, and thinking of ways to cheer his brother up without eating away at the meager amount of cash their Dad had left them. A chance overheard conversation whilst in line for lunch sounded like just the thing tat might work; plus it was free and indoors.

As the bell for last period finally rang out, Dean shot out of his chair and was through the door before Miss Simpson had even started giving out her holiday wishes. Throwing his books into his locker-did the teachers really expect him to do homework? He was on holiday for heavens sake-he locked it before he sprinted out the door, took the steps in one giant leap and bounded off down the pavement that led to their latest run down rental.

Turning up the overgrown driveway, Dean slowed to a walk as he took out his key from his jean pocket before entering it into the doors rusty lock, jiggling it a few times before aligning it up properly, and opened the door. Kicking off his sneakers and shrugging off his coat, Dean left them in a pile on the floor of the kitchen before ascending the stairs towards his and Sam's shared room. Pushing open the door he stood and stared for a few moments at his younger brother, eyes closed bundled under layers of ratty blankets, looking years younger than the eight he was.

"I know you're awake Sam, you're breathing is too fast." Dean eventually spoke after a few minutes had past. "What ya been up too?" He inquired, not surprised when Sam opened his eyes to note the hint of a guilty look in them.

"Nothing." Sam croaked out in response, his eyes dropping to the bed showing yet another sign of guilt. "You're home early?"

Dean let Sam's guilty look fade from his memory as he noted the stubborn streak both his younger brother and his Dad were famous for begin to show. Figuring he would have to wait to find out what his brother had been up too, he threw one of his own hoodies Sam's way and said. "Yeah well, I thought that you deserved a treat after being stuck here alone all day. So dress warm and lets go."

Dean waited downstairs whilst Sam changed out of his pj's and into warmer clothes, chugging a few gulps of milk straight from the carton in an attempt to ease the tickle he could feel building in his throat, god he hoped he wasn't gonna get sick also, hoped that he wasn't coming down with the same thing Sam had. He placed the carton back into the fridge as he heard Sam's footsteps on the stairs. Slipping his sneakers back on his feet, Dean grabbed his coat up off the floor and stood by the door watching as Sam trudged lethargically towards him, his face was ashen apart from two blotches of red blushing his cheeks and a nose that would give Rudolph a run for his money, his eyes dull and slightly blood shot, dark circles evident beneath them. Dean contemplated whether taking Sam out was such a good idea after all, whether he should just keep Sam here at home, wrapped up and warm. He remembered though how his brother always loved Christmas, and decided to over rule his instincts, choosing to go ahead with the treat he had planned. Making sure Sam put on his hat, coat and gloves, both boys proceeded to step outside and into the chilly evening air.

Entering the medium sized mall some twenty minutes later, both Sam and Dean relished the warmth that hit their faces, slowly taking away the sting the cold had produced. Helping Sam take off his gloves and unbutton his coat, Dean couldn't help but feel happy as he noticed the smile that had already begun to grace his brothers chapped and dry lips, his siblings eyes already seeming brighter as he took in the sight of the colorfully decorated walkways with their thousands of brightly colored lights and decorations that sparkled as they turned slowly in the breeze of the blown air.

"Come on Sam." Dean urged as Sam stood there mesmerized. "Otherwise we'll be late."

Sam followed obediently alongside his brother his hand automatically searching for Dean's and gripping tight as the crowds around them grew, his pace quickening as Dean hurried to get to their destination. They turned a corner as their branch ended and they reached the centre of the mall, Sam stopping in his tracks as he spotted the scene in front of him. The whole of the malls centre had been transformed into a Christmas winter wonderland, one side set as Santa's grotto, a small part of him still getting excited even though he had stopped believing a couple of years back, still keeping up a pretense though as he knew it still gave Dean pleasure to think he still believed, to think he was still innocent.

The other side of the malls centre was set up with a stage, hundreds of chairs set out in rows before it. Dean started leading Sam to the back, changing direction as their luck changed, two seats becoming available in the front row as a mother stood up and proceeded to drag off her toddler, who no matter what she did refused to stop screaming. Dean lunged for the seats, pushing past a father and his daughter to get them, ignoring the looks of disgust the man and others gave him. Settling into their seats Dean advised Sam to take off his coat, whilst he divested his brother of his scarf. Settling back both brothers awaited the beginning of the show.

Pulling back a small portion of the curtain, he watched as the seats began to fill with adults and children alike, the aura of the youngsters arousing his senses and making him feel alive. About to let the curtain drop back into place he stopped suddenly when he felt an aura he had felt once before, an aura that had escaped his clutches last year, the only one to ever have done so. Lifting the curtain back up he scanned the crowd, his gaze fixing onto the small boy with the unruly brown locks and expressive eyes.

TBC.

**A.N. . . . . . . . Well what do you think? Worth continuing? Thanks as always for reading, I hope that you all had a very Merry Christmas, will catch you soon, Peanut x**


	2. Chapter 2

_The Nutcracker._

_Summary. . . . . . Trying to bring an ill Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger._

_Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only loaning the guys, I promise to return them, I just can't guarantee it will be in one piece._

_A.N. . . . . . Still recovering from a really bad cold so I've spent the whole day writing rather than venture outside into the gales. As always I thank each and everyone of you for reading, will catch you soon, Peanut x_

_**Sam had been scared out of his wits when Dean had come home unexpectedly early from school, startling the youngster who had crept from his bed earlier and had spent the previous half hour sitting crossed legged on the thread bare cold carpet of their room laboriously wrapping Dean's Christmas presents. He'd worked hard all year doing odd jobs in which ever crummy town they happened to be in so that this year he could treat his brother to something special; which was why he had spent so long wrapping the two gifts, his already analytical mind deliberating each cut and bend of the paper so that the edges were perfectly uniformed, the small bow centered just right, the ribbons the same length, their curls equal.**_

_**So caught up in his quest for perfection, Sam had missed the door open and close downstairs, only realizing that Dean was home when his brother hollered his name up the stairs. Sam had just managed to push the presents and packaging under the bed and pull the blankets over his body as Dean pushed open the door. He tried to relax, to even out his breathing, but he really should have known better, should have known that Dean would have seen through his guise. He cringed as Dean spoke, thinking he had been found out, part of him waiting for the telling off he knew he would receive, shocked when after a few exchanged words Dean's favourite hoodie came sailing through the air to land heavily on his face, and to hear his brother say "dress warm and lets go."**_

_**Obediently he had followed his brother's orders, wondering where they were going. He wasn't stupid he knew money was tight, that their Dad had barely left enough for them to get by on; a reason, Sam knew, why he wasn't managing to overcome this flu he had been riddled with, why it was refusing to go. Yes, he had the medicines but rather than see Dean go without food-he'd seen it too many times before when he was ill-Sam had been claiming he wasn't hungry, eating little knowing that Dean would finish it rather than waste it.**_

_**When they had stepped into the mall the child, he had started to hide deep within himself, was ecstatic, still wanting, wishing for this apple pie lifestyle. He'd followed blindly along as Dean almost raced for their destination, his eyes boggling at the sights that befell him when they finally got there, he wanted to take it all in, wanted to capture it all in his mind, his old before his years mind already knowing there wouldn't be too many more adventures like this, but Dean was dragging him off again heading for the rows of seats positioned before a stage. He sent apologetic eyes a young girls way as Dean barged past her aiming for two seats in the front row, where he now found himself sat divested of his coat and scarf, waiting for the play to start; a mixture of happiness and something he couldn't quite place waging a war within his stomach.**_

_**For some unknown reason Sam didn't feel safe, the way he usually did whenever he was with Dean. For some unknown reason he felt as if . . . . . . . as if he was being watched, a feeling he had only felt one time before. He squirmed around in his seat, looking at all the faces surrounding him trying to find the source of his discomfort, yet seeing nothing but the brightly smiling faces of the children, and the loving looks of the parents. Turning back, Sam thought he saw the curtain that draped down to the stage move over in the corner, his eyes fixing onto that spot in case they moved again yet nothing happened.**_

_**As the lights dimmed slightly, Sam couldn't suppress the shiver that ran the length of his spine, or the growing unease that settled within his stomach. He contemplated asking Dean if they could leave, his unease beginning to terrify him; but he had seen the look of pride, of happiness that had crossed his brother's face as they had entered. Dean had done this to cheer him up and had thought he had succeeded; how could Sam be so selfish to want to burst that bubble? Instead he planted a fake smile across his face and tried to relax. As the curtain began to rise he couldn't help scooting over as close to Dean's side as possible and leant into his warmth, he knew he was being silly, that nothing could happen here, that Dean was here, that Dean would keep him safe, but that unease refused to be dimmed.**_

_**Dean had felt an immense sense of pride as they took their seats, this was just what Sam needed to start getting better, a small break away, a little bit of normality, a distraction from their poorly furnished home. He settled back into his hard plastic chair, surprised to find himself looking forward to the show. As they waited for curtain fall, Dean's good mood began to falter, dampen slightly, as he sensed a change in Sam's demeanour. Looking down he wondered what he was feeling as he watched Sam sit there smiling. Thinking he was imagining things he ignored the twinge of apprehension he was feeling and concentrated on the stage before him as the lights dimmed, and the curtain began to rise.**_

_**Dean jumped slightly as Sam squirmed closer to his side, practically burying himself there, that bad feeling prickling his mind again resulting in his attention veering from the stage, his eyes beginning to scour the crowd and surrounding area looking for whatever had caused Sam's anxiety. At seeing nothing to be concerned with he started to relax, yet still kept his senses open as the actors began to take to the stage, his arm automatically creeping around Sam's shoulder, an unconscious attempt at warding off any attack and keep his brother safe.**_

_**He felt more alive than he had in a long while as he took to the stage, the time between feeds was too long and the sustenance the last one had produced was waning. He desperately needed to consume again and his sights were set on a goal that would mean he would never have to consume again. He cast his oaky eyes around searching for his prize, the need to get his fingers on the deliciousness overwhelming him, making him forget for a minute that he was supposed to be playing a role. Nobody seemed to notice how his eyes began to change, their normally wooden gaze beginning to gleam as he continued to watch the boy and dream about the riches he would gain once he had tasted.**_

_**TBC.**_

_**A.N. . . . . . . Well I hope it was okay and that you enjoyed? I hope that I can continue with the quick updates once I return to work tomorrow, but I ask for forgiveness in advance if I fail. Thanks again for reading, Peanut x**_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . Trying to bring an ill Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only loaning the guys, I promise to return them, I just can****'****t guarantee it will be in one piece.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . Happy New Year guys and gals, due to the fact that I was being lazy and couldn't be bothered to venture out, I managed to get up bright and early and relatively hangover free to write the next chapter of The Nutcracker. Hope you all enjoy, catch you later, Peanut x**

Dean could feel the tenseness leave his body as Sam began to relax a little beside him, yet his eyes stayed alert for any sign of trouble, his mind unwilling to completely ignore Sam's intuition; if his brother felt something was off, yet was reluctant to tell him what for whatever reason, Dean would believe that too. It had happened too many times in the past for it to be wrong now, Sam's uncanny ability to know when things were going to turn bad saving both his and their Dad's respective asses on numerous occasions. He could only hope that Sam's reasons for staying quiet was because the threat was minimal.

He looked down again at Sam, sat close to his side and for all intent and purposes engrossed and enjoying the show; at least that's what the untrained observer would think, Dean though knew better, years of looking after Sam, of constantly being aware if his brother was hurting making Dean see things others couldn't, not even their Dad. He could tell from the rigidity of Sam's back that his brother was worried, scared almost; could tell from the tenseness of his jaw and eyes that even though he looked like he was watching the show, his mind was else where, alert and ready to run if the threat he felt materialized.

Seeing Sam smile at something on the stage and relax his posture even more, eased Dean's worries slightly. Even though he was now wary of his surroundings, he really wanted Sam to enjoy himself today, to have a bit of fun in his life, to be happy for a just for a little while before Dean had to break the news that they would be leaving town once their Dad had returned, that they would most likely be spending Christmas on the road yet again, with their Dad treating the day just like any other day. With that thought in mind, and Sam's newly relaxed state, he allowed the brightly colored costumes, the cheerful music, and the dancing babes to ease the restlessness from his mind, and the tension from his body, making him forget after a few minutes what had worried him in the first place.

Sam really wanted to leave. Ever since the curtain had risen he had fought against the urge to run out of there, the feeling of the eyes watching him gaining strength by the second. He knew it was stupid, that he was probably imagining things, but he couldn't suppress either the sensation of hands touching him, causing shudders to course throughout his body, and nausea to rise in his stomach. He tried so hard to conceal how badly he wanted to go home, tried to release the nervousness from his body and enjoy the show for Dean's sake, to make his brother feel he had done something good, managing to do so for a while, but unable to lose those feelings completely.

Sam felt more than saw Dean's eyes turn his way, felt the unasked questions his brother wanted to ask, the nervousness in Dean that he had put there. He plastered a fake smile on his face in the hopes that he could fool his brother, relaxing his stance even more in the hopes that Dean would turn back and enjoy the show; there was no need after all for them both to be miserable. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in as his wishes came true and Dean's eyes returned to the show; the busty blondes grabbing Dean's attention no doubt, causing Sam to smile a genuine smile for the first time since they had sat down.

That smile though died on his lips as the feelings returned, slamming into his mind with more strength than ever. He looked up to the stage hoping to route out the cause of his apprehension looking to see what had changed so much in the previous minutes to have caused such a spike, but all he could see were the wooden eyes of some freaky looking wooden models, and the garish masks of the dancers. He fought back another shudder and tried to lose himself in the music and dancing, surprised when after a few minutes he caught himself actually enjoying show, even if he couldn't quite lose the feeling of eyes watching his every move.

As he followed the dancers as they pranced across the stage, Sam was suddenly overcome by chills, the air around him seeming to freeze. He stopped following the dancers, his eyes seeming to move back to the other side of the stage despite his best efforts to stop them, where only one performer remained sat on the wooden platform surrounded by the wooden figurines that had sent chills through him earlier, the guys eyes fixed on him, but they weren't the only ones; if he didn't know any better Sam would swear that the puppets were also looking his way. The desperation to leave heightened in Sam as the performer licked his lips and waved discretely his way, Making his mind up Sam turned to Dean, he felt so selfish for doing this, but he really didn't feel safe here any more, pulling on Dean's jacket he whispered.

"Dean, I don't feel so good, can we please leave?" He felt so guilty for the white lie, but the urge to get away from the stage was so strong. He turned away from Dean's gaze as his brother looked at him, unable to look at the disappointment he knew would be there, knowing he had once again caused it.

"Sure Sam." Dean said after watching Sam for a few seconds and not liking what he saw. He bit back the disappointment he felt as he took in Sam's whiter than white features and frightened eyes, just what the hell was going on? "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just really want to go home, I'm not feeling good, headache, you know?"

"Okay then, lets get going."

Sam stood after putting his coat back on and turned to leave, unable to keep from looking back though, shivering as he witnessed the guys eyes still on him.

It infuriated him that he had to lower himself to performing with such amateurs, this was so beneath his status, he was destined for bigger and better things than performing in shopping malls, and his way out was sitting right there in front of him. It took all his restraint, all his self will from moving and taking that which was rightfully his. He watched as the boy struggled to stay calm, almost as if the child knew he was being watched, but he was being so careful how could that be. Looking around stealthily he spotted the reason why, a underling was eyeing his prize with lust. And could it be? Scaring his prize away?

He watched, infuriated, as the boy stood and gripping his brother's hand tightly began to walk away, his mind determined to make the performer pay for his sin, it was too soon, he needed to get closer. Praying that the scent of the boy would be enough for him to follow later, he set his sights on the performer, and using what little strength he had gained from the boys essence began to use his power, focussing on squeezing the life out of the man sending him slipping sideways into oblivion. He smiled to himself as the screams of children began to permeate the air.

**A.N. . . . . . . As always I'd like to thank you all for taking time out to read, I'll be back soon with another update, Peanut x**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . Trying to bring an ill Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only loaning the guys, I promise to return them, I just can't guarantee it will be in one piece.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . Sorry about the wait, work has been a bee-atch this week, and the site is giving me a bit of trouble too, for some unknown reason I haven't had any alerts since Wednesday, weird. I hope that the chapter makes up for the wait, thanks as always for reading, catch you later, Peanut x**

Dean's eyes roamed the crowd as they left, his mind taking snapshots of all the faces hoping that something would stand out about one of them, that somehow he would be able to spot the person that had scared Sam so. That act though proved fruitless, the crowd vast and so. . . . . .so normal looking with their happy, smiling faces and their newly bought expensive Christmas clothes, probably purchased especially to watch the show. A saddened expression crossed his face as he realized that yet again this year Sam would have to make do with hand me downs, either Dean's or ones bought cheaply from charity shores. He hated the fact that this play was the one bit of fun, the one bit of Christmas cheer he could provide for his brother, hated the fact that even that gesture had failed.

In his disappointment, he gripped Sam's arm more tightly than he intended to eliciting a small groan from his little brother, and increasing the disappointment he felt in his himself tenfold. Releasing his grip, yet still maintaining a solid hold on Sam, Dean mumbled an apology refusing to look at his brother's eyes, unwilling to view the disappointment he felt would surely be there, and made his way further into the mall and away from the stage. As the crowds got bigger and the stores reappeared, Dean could feel Sam start to relax beside him; and could feel the tension leave his own body as a result. He pulled Sam to one side as security and paramedics rushed passed them, his eyes following them for a few seconds, as his ears picked up the faint sounds of screaming coming from where the stage was set up. Instantly curious h went to turn back to take a look, until a slight tug on his arm changed his mind, and he looked down on Sam; his brothers hand held out and hope gleaming in his eyes.

Sam felt the guilt begin to take hold as they made their way down the row of chairs, ignoring the grumbles and expletives from the other viewers. He could feel it bubble and boil in his stomach making him feel altogether nauseous, miserable and stupid at the same time. That feeling increasing as he felt Dean's hand constrict around his arm, eliciting a wince of pain to escape, making him feel even worse; Dean must be mad at him, must be disappointed in him, and that was the one thing in this world that Sam feared most. Vowing to figure a way to make things up to his brother, Sam trudged obediently along feeling totally despondent.

The further they travelled away from the stage, the looser Sam felt his muscles become, his nerves that had been so taut, settling and the happiness that he had been feeling when they first arrived at the mall returning, although the fear that he had disappointed Dean remained, along with that nagging doubt that something else was here, watching, waiting. He berated himself , considered himself stupid, silly, a baby even for getting so worked up; worked up over nothing really, as no signs of danger had appeared. The more he thought about it, the more he could even excuse the guy who had waved at him, he was after all a performer who had spent his life getting paid to play to the crowd.

As he began to feel better, he started to feel more guilty about leaving, about spoiling Dean's surprise for him. He thought again about ways to make things up to his brother, the brother he loved more than life itself, his face lighting up with a huge smile as he remembered the left over money he had after buying Dean's gifts. Putting his hand in his pocket he pulled out the lint covered coins and the crumpled up worn bills, and mentally counted them. It wasn't much, but maybe it would be enough to start making amends. Tugging on Dean's jacket, he waited for him to look his way, and with his hand stretched out and hope in his eyes he asked.

"Do you want to get something to eat? Maybe a burger, it'll be my treat?" The smile on his face began to falter as Dean just looked at him with what Sam's young mind took to be displeasure written all over his face. Tears began to burn his eyes as he fought to contain them. Had he really upset Dean that much?

Dean looked down at Sam's outstretched hand, anything to get away from that pleading look in his eyes. He couldn't even understand why that look was even there, why was Sam not disappointed in him? He was so caught up in his thoughts that he failed to hear Sam's words, failed to see Sam's mood change once again. He was pulled back to reality as he felt Sam's hand drop from his arm, his own eyes finally taking in the money gripped in Sam's other hand. Looking back at his brother, Dean's heart broke at the look of pure sadness that radiated from him, remorse yet again worming it's way inside of him that he was the one that had put that sadness there. His mind catching up, he realized that Sam had spoken and being to caught up in his thoughts he had missed the words. Clearing his throat, he inquired.

"Sorry Sam, what did you say?"

Refusing to look Dean in the eyes, Sam stammered his reply, the last words barely audible. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to get something to eat? But it's okay if you don't. It's okay if you just want to go home. It's okay if you're mad at me."

Dean's stomach dropped. Sam thought he was mad at him, why? He'd have to get to the bottom of that later, for now though he knew he had to get Sam smiling again. Pushing to the back of his mind the fact that Sam's money would be better spent on necessities that would keep them eating until their Dad came back, he plastered a smile onto his face, lifted Sam's had gently until their eyes met, and replied. "Lets do kiddo, you know me, I'll never refuse an onion slathered burger." Maybe by agreeing to this he could kill two birds with one stone; cheer Sam up, and find out what happened earlier to scare him so.

With all the confusion that occurred as the stage filled with paramedics and security, and the small space filling with screams and sobbing, he found it all too easy to slip away. The smell of the boy was drifting away with each cycle of the circulated air, he needed to get the scent back, he couldn't afford to let him slip away again this vessel was getting bothersome, it's limitations high, he needed a new source of energy, or even better a way to make those limitations disappear; and the boy's essence, the power that burned inside him, was just what he needed.

He moved swiftly, stealthily through the crowd free back corridors, his keen senses quickly picking up the trail again, excitement building inside his solid form when the scent gained in strength and kept on getting stronger. They were still here, they had stopped. He sped up, his need to get within their sights again intoxicating him; his need to taste, if even minutely, the boys soul invigorating him making him less cautious then he should have been, making him take chances, risks that he normally wouldn't. As the boys smell reached it's peak, he crept silently through a door and entered the crowded mall, using anything he could to avoid being seen, figuring out quite quickly that being seen should have been the least of his worries, the crowds so caught up in getting last minute gifts, and fantastic deals they paid no attention to him at all.

Creeping forward he felt a burst of energy as his eyes set sight on the object of his obsession, sat no more than ten feet away. How easy it would be to just snatch the child away, to take him far from here, to lay claim to what he felt was rightfully his, to what he needed. There was just one problem though, and it also sat at the table, protecting the child, wanting the child for itself. Somehow, someway he had to immobilize, to get rid of the protector. He watched as a waitress took their order, a plan forming in his mind.

**A.N. . . . . . . . How was it? Too slow? Or still suspenseful? Let me know. Will catch you soon, Peanut x**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . . Trying to bring an ill Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Born from the genius that is Kripkie, I'm just loaning them.**

**A.N. . . . . . . I'm so, so sorry for the long wait for this one, I kinda got side tracked a little with a couple of other fics. As always thank you so much for reading, Peanut x**

Sam rolled his eyes as his brother attempted to chat up the busty blonde who had come to take their orders, but couldn't help the smile that graced his face at the same time, this little bit of normal a welcome break after the weirdness of the pantomime. He could feel himself begin to relax just listening to the banter between Dean and the girl, and welcomed the break on his highly strung nerves; yet something still prickled the back of his mind, that feeling of being watched returning. Trying to be as discreet as possible he began to scout out his surroundings, seeing nothing really out of the ordinary. He couldn't hold back a shudder though, causing Dean to look his way from his flirting briefly, as his eyes roamed over the oddly placed Christmas decoration, something about the statue bringing the chill back to his bones. In the end though he dismissed the warning, thinking it was merely an advertisement for the play they had just left, and turned back as the waitress walked away.

She returned within minutes, small tray crammed with Sam's chicken sandwich, salad and drink, and Dean's triple stacker, large fries and extra large pepsi; his brother's order having been upgraded, the girl enjoying the brief respite from the usual miserable souls she'd had the pleasure of serving since her shift had started. As he watched his brother cram the food into his mouth, relish and extra onions spilling from the sides, Sam attempted to enjoy his own food spearing a tomato with his fork and popping it in his mouth, the fruit feeling dry and large as the bad feelings from earlier returned full force. He attempted to swallow down the morsel, his eyes frantically scanning for the danger he knew had returned, but the fragment lodged in his throat, causing his panic to increase as his airway was cut off, his already tender throat burning all the more as the acidity of the fruit was released.

He grabbed onto Dean's arm as his airway became blocked and breathing became difficult, his brother's meal quickly forgotten at the sight of Sam's puce features and panicked eyes. Sam could feel darkness encroaching as his body struggled to survive without oxygen, his mind already closing down, missing the harsh thumps administered to his back, and the frantic shouts for help from his brother. As the spots that danced before his eyes grew larger and the blackness began to take him under, Sam caught sight briefly of menacing features, evil eyes and a smug sadistic smile.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean began to forget the troubles and worries of earlier as he and Sam sat down at the table, his mind already on other things as he caught sight of the blonde that was headed their way, at nearly thirteen his hormones were kicking in and his flirting had increased a notch; Sam might have the puppy eyes that had grannies country wide cooing over him, but Dean could work the beauties over just as well, and if that meant he could eat like a king for little or no money, he wasn't about to waste his talent. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Sam's eye roll and the smirk that lit up his little brothers face, happy that his sibling seemed back to normal once again, before turning back towards the girl, a glint in his eye and a wise crack falling from his mouth.

Even though his attention was on the girl, Dean refused to allow his defenses to totally drop, his ears listening for anything out of the ordinary, his eyes occasionally leaving the pretty face before him to scour the sea of people that still rambled around. He had just returned his attention to Becky, as her nametag read, when he caught Sam's posture change beside him, his little brother's back becoming ram rod straight, a shudder coursing through his frame. He gave him a quizzical look, before finishing off the order, his eyes once again looking for what had changed Sam's mood once again, catching nothing to arouse his suspicions apart from the busier than usual crowds, and yet another of those freaky Christmas decorations inappropriately placed. He calmed slightly as Sam's attention returned to the table as their food arrived, his own thoughts turning to the mammoth burger that had his name written all over it.

He relished the taste of extra onions, meat and cheese; a week of making sure Sam had enough to eat, himself surviving on peanut butter sandwiches, making this simple burger feel to him like a gourmet meal. He had just taken a large gulp of his drink, a handful of fries positioned ready to be shoveled into his mouth when he heard Sam start to struggle next to him, his food forgotten, as his whole focus turned to his brother, his eyes widening as he took in the reddish, purple tint Sam's face was becoming. As his brother gripped his arm painfully, Dean's natural instinct kicked in, his hand pounding heavily at Sam's back, his voice crying out for someone to help, his anxiety rising as Sam fell limply against his chest. He fought briefly at the hands that threatened to take Sam away from him before Becky's voice registered in his mind, her reassurances that she could help allowing him to relinquish hold of his precious bundle.

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He watched from his position as child's natural instinct recognized the danger once again, his whole being tingling at the very thought of what he could achieve with that power. As the waitress walked away mumbling began falling from his lips as a curse took shape. Excitement began to vibrate throughout his being as he watched the youngster begin to eat the meal, that excitement turning to thrill as he caught the young boy struggling, the pest that was his brother, trying desperately to help the stricken youngster, his plans going just as he had hoped. He moved easily, unseen through the crowds that stopped to watch the scene that was happening, Christmas shopping forgotten as morbid curiosity took over. Planting himself within the child's line of sight, pleasure rose within him as the boy's eyes caught his, the youngster's face draining of all color. He smiled a smile that was half grimace, half leer as he watched him fall limply into his brother's chest, before moving away and towards his next haunt, knowing that once there his plans would fall into fruition.

**A.N. . . . . . . Sorry it's short, it's hard to get back into a fic when you take a break away. I hope to be back to normal though for the next chapter. Anyway that being said I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, will catch you soon, Peanut x**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . . Whilst trying bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only loaning from the genius that is Kripkie.**

**A.N. . . . . . . The writing bug has bitten down hard again and I find myself being able to get chapters done quicker than I normally would. I just hope that it doesn't wear off soon! In the mean time I'll try to get as many out there as I can, as quickly as I can. Thanks as always for reading, catch you later, Peanut x**

Stopping by the doorway he had come through earlier he waited. He'd learnt, over the many decades he had been this way, how to manipulate the curse he was under so that at times he could move around looking almost human, those times though lasting at the most an hour, and the effort it took to create the ruse debilitating him, taking away all thoughts, feelings and movement for precious hours, sometimes even days afterwards depending on how long he used it, which was why he didn't use the ability that often; this time though he knew the exertion would be worth it, that his goal would be in sight and the nightmares that had started all those moons ago would finally be laid to rest.

Concentrating hard he pushed his powers to the forefront and felt the sharp tingle that signaled the change begin to take a hold of him, not worrying about the strange sight he made, as the thoughts of everyone around him were still on the two boys. He despised the fact that even though now slightly more human, he still had to wear the costume of the puppet he had become, wishing for the gold, and rich furs and robes he had been forced to give up, knowing though that once he had taken the powers of the boy, all those precious treasures would once again be his.

As the waitress began to work on the boy, and knowing he wouldn't be able to hold this shape much longer he moved swiftly, deftly though the crowds of curious bystanders towards the place he knew they would take his prize next. Plans already forming in his mind as to how he would take out the annoyance that was the protector, and how he would get his prize out of the building and to the safe place where the ritual to break the curse that held him could be done without interruption. The sadistic smile that had so chilled the boy growing in intensity as pleasurable thoughts of what was to come were created.

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Dean couldn't believe Winchester luck. All he had wanted was one day of fun and laughter for his brother, yet that day had turned into a nightmare. First Sam had been so scared of something at the play, and now this. Why couldn't they just have one day of normal without all the drama and hurt and pain that they had been given today? Why couldn't they be the ones shopping for gifts that they didn't really need, instead of being lucky if they recieved a couple of dollar store gifts? Why couldn't they be the ones who would sit around a table festooned with enough food to feed a small third world country, instead of rationing what little food they did have just in case their Dad was late getting back? Why couldn't they be the ones who would be safe, and warm, and happy wrapped up in new Christmas clothes, instead of freezing their asses off in hand me downs, or charity shop clothing in some crummy run down cheap ass house? Tears sprung into his eyes, the wetness spilling over thick lashes to trickle down his cheeks, as these thoughts roared through his head, adding to the frustration that Sam was hurting and that he couldn't help him, sending him into a state of shock, his whole body shaking as he stared listlessly into space, retreating so far back in his mind he didn't feel a hand clamp down on his shoulder, or the same hand begin to guide him away from the diner, away from the pity stares, away from his brother.

His brother. His brother. The person that meant more to him than anything else in the world, they were taking him away from his brother. As that thought entered into his head, Dean began to return to the now, shaking off the hand that gripped his shoulder and looking frantically around for his sibling, eventually seeing him up ahead laying strangely, eerily still on a gurney that was just about to go through a door that exited the mall and led to the corridors that connected all the stores back doors. All previous thoughts were forgotten as Sam vanished from his sight, the doors swishing closed blocking his view of the one he was to protect at all costs. Taking off at a run, avoiding all hands that tried to stop him, Dean pelted through the wooden barrier desperate to get back to his brother, to make sure that he was alive. He caught sight of Becky leading the cavalcade of security and paramedics towards the mall's small first aid room, shouting at the waitress to stop, to wait up, thankful when she did and Sam's warm hand was once again ensconced in his.

As Sam was settled on the rooms only bed, Dean began to fight off questions that were thrown at him. Where were their parents? Where did they live? What number could their Dad be reached at? What had happened at the diner? The constant pressure creating a headache to form, as he fought to give answers that wouldn't draw suspicion. There was only their Father, their Mother had died a long time ago. They lived on Chigwel Court. Their Dad was traveling back from a business meeting and couldn't be reached, but would be back before supper. He didn't know what had happened at the diner, they were just eating and the next minute Sam couldn't breathe. He must have given the right answers, or at least ones that pleased the older people for now, as he was soon left alone with reassurances that Sam would be okay and would wake soon, and that when he did he would be okay to go home.

Sitting in a hard plastic chair, Sam's hand once again resting in his, the guilt that he had been able to push aside reared it's ugly head again, slamming harshly into Dean's heart causing his breath to falter as sobs began to fall from his lips, and tears from his red rimmed eyes. He hung his head in shame over both his and Sam's hands, as his failures consumed him, leaving him weary, his eyes battling to stay open; a battle they soon lost as they slid heavily closed and sleep soon overtook him, making him miss the door to the room begin to open.

**To Be Continued. . . . . . . . ****A.N. . . . . . . Mwah, ha, ha! Evil cliffie writer strikes again! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, I know it'short again but I have given you two chapters in two days. That has to count for something right? Will be back soon with chapter 7, Peanut x**


	7. Chapter 7

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . Trying to bring some Christmas cheer to a sick Sam, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only on loan from the evil genius that is Kripkie.**

**A.N. . . . . . I still have this writing bug biting my ass, so here's yet another chapter. Catch you soon, Peanut x**

**For Stephen, keep fighting cousin, I might not be there in body but I am in spirit. Love ya.**

Call it divine intervention, natural instinct, or just the act of a very light sleeper, Dean didn't know and didn't care as some part of him was tweaked awake, his eyes instantly opening wide, by the soft swish of the door behind him closing. He couldn't help the stiffening of his back, the only other give away that told of his now awakened state, as he prepared to fight, if necessary, whoever had just entered the room, his state of awareness heightening as the hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end. He berated himself for being so stupid as to not come out prepared for anything, for thinking that for once a little bit of normal could be theirs, for thinking that the supernatural could for one day all be forgotten; then berated himself again for instantly jumping to conclusions, the intruder could be anyone, Becky maybe, or one of the paramedics; yet somehow Dean knew that it wasn't, that whatever, or whoever was now standing behind him was something very dangerous indeed, something that had probably been frightening Sam since they got there..

He moved his eyes frantically around, trying desperately to spot something, anything that he could use as a weapon to protect Sam from harm, but everything was locked away and even though he had been able to pick a lock since he was seven years old, he knew he wouldn't be given the time to do so. As he prepared for what was about to happen, all he could hope for was the element of surprise, that he could catch whoever was there unawares, that maybe by doing so he could raise the alarm and get the help his brother needed, or at least be able to get Sam out of harms way. He looked into the glass of one of the cabinets as he felt the curtain that had been pulled around them move slightly, even though the air in the room was still, barely holding in a gasp of surprise at what the reflection showed him; a sight that if he didn't know any better, if he hadn't seen the things he had, would have stolen his breath away, made him think he was hallucinating, made him think all his nightmares had come true.

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Reverted back to his original form he rested in the shadows, willing his strength to return quickly, watching, waiting for the right moment, for the crowd around the boy to lessen, to make his final move on his quest to gain back the life he had been forced to leave all those years ago. His mind traveled back through time to the day that things had changed, hatred coursing through his whole being for the one who had taken everything away from him; decades later and he still didn't know why this had happened? It wasn't after all, like he had killed those children, he'd just played with them, messed with their heads, if they had returned home a little changed and damaged that wasn't his fault, was it? So why had the residents of the town he had taken up residence in taken such an offence to him and punished him, unwarranted he might add, in such a harsh, vile way? Hadn't they realized who he was? Did they not know they couldn't treat him this way? But not to worry, he thought to himself, that sickening smile that had scared Sam so gracing his lips once more, once he had taken the gift from the boy, he would return, he would make them pay, he would play once again with the children before smiting their village to the ground.

He instinctively slid further into the shadows as the door opened to the room that held his prize and all but the protector left, the end game now within his sights. Concentrating hard once more he began the process of changing once again, the process becoming easier in one sense as the knowledge that he wouldn't have to do it too many more times boosted his confidence; yet harder in another as he knew this time he would have to changed for longer. Once done he moved swiftly towards the door, pleasure increasing his happiness when he tested the handle and found it moved, pushing open the entrance he began his deadly game of cat and mouse, stalking mutely towards his prey, gradually getting closer and closer until he was within striking distance, his arm lifting the axe he always carried ready to eliminate the protector once and for all, leaving the way clear for him to collect his spoils.

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Knowing he had little chance of success, but unwilling to go down without a fight, Dean prepared himself to use the element of surprise, hoping, praying that he could succeed. He moved with practiced ease as he watched in the polished glass the axe begin to fall, managing to dodge the lethal weapon at the same time as pushing the creep away from Sam. Turning on his heels he rose and started to brace himself, ready to do the only job he had ever been asked to do, protect Sammy, but he wasn't quick enough, the beast superior in strength and agility regaining it's balance within an instant, it's weapon raised and once again aiming for him. He tried again to dodge out of the way, this time though he wasn't quick enough the axe's blade cutting through the fabric of his coat and shirt as he raised his arm to protect his head, before digging into his flesh. The pain was instant and agonizing, throwing him off balance. As the blade was ripped out his knees buckled beneath him, sending him crashing into the metal frame of the bed Sam was laying upon, his head cracking harshly off the unforgiving post on his way down to the floor. Dean's last sight as his vision began to fail him, was of Sam cradled in the beasts arms.

**A.N. . . . . . Before you send the hunters out to shoot the writer, I'm off again at the weekend so you shouldn't have to wait too long to find out what happens to Sam. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and thanks as always for reading, Peanut x**


	8. Chapter 8

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . Trying to bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . Still only loaning the guys, but I'm working on a plan!**

**A.N. . . . . . .Well here it is chapter 8, I hope that you enjoy it, catch you later, Peanut x**

Pain and exhaustion left him floating somewhere between sleep and awake fullness, his body seeking the rest, yet at the same time unwilling to allow him to totally relax and heal, a permanent ringing reverberating around his skull preventing him from seeking that calm, silent, dark place that he knew so well. He groaned as the ringing increased before going silent, the quiet lulling him to step deeper away from pain and further into the blackness. He jumped as his arm was suddenly gripped and shaken, and his name was spoken softly, the tone sounding hurried and worried. He willed his broken body to move, willed his heavy eyes to open, instinct telling him that something was wrong, that he needed to forgo rest, that he was required. Opening first one, then the other eye to slits took more effort than he thought possible, the lids slamming closed again briefly as harsh florescent light shone into his sockets, igniting a world of agony that had him rolling to the side and expelling what little food he had eaten earlier; cringing away from the pungent smell once he had finished, as it threatened to send his stomach into a sloshing, rolling mess once again.

His eyes shut again, the effort of being sick slipping him back into the warmth and calm of his mind, but that voice began talking once more and this time it was accompanied by a tapping upon his face. "Buddy! Buddy! C'mon, it's time to wake up." A small part of him wanted to comply, but the darkness was a stronger pull, there he could forget all his pains, forget all his sickness, and just relax with his memories of the most beautiful blonde he had ever met. The tapping though refused to let up, and the voice grew louder and more worried by the second, the words being spoken breaking through his clouded mind and registering in his brain. "C'mon buddy, you have to wake up, we need to get you home." Home, home, why did he need to get home? As his eyes struggled to open yet again, a thought pushed it's way to the front of his mind, and words fell stuttered from his mouth. "Wa. . .. . . .wat's goin' on?"

"There's been some trouble, Dean needs ya Johnny."

That was all it took, his eldest boys name being mentioned. John's eyes flew open, the pain that crashed it's way through his body ignored and forgotten as he stumbled from the bed, desperate to get to his clothes so he could get dressed, hit the road and get back to his son. He stumbled slightly as his damaged leg gave way beneath him as he stepped into the worn denim of his jeans; cursed himself out, and refused Caleb's help, as he felt stitches pull in his side, as he attempted to pull on his t-shirt; but that stubborn Winchester streak had taken hold, and no matter the pain, John was now determined to work through it. He looked up after tying his boot laces, thankful that Caleb had sorted out their belongings whilst he was getting dressed and loaded them into the truck ready to go, with determination still pushing him on he stood on wobbly legs, waiting a few seconds for the dizziness to pass before moving towards the door; a thought stopping him on the threshold, a thought that needed voicing. "Caleb, you mentioned Dean, was Sammy okay?"

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Frigidly cold air creeping their way through the cracks of the rotten wood, sent their wisps across the soft flesh of Sam's bare chest, arms and legs, causing the already trembling boy, to shake all the more violently. He had woken a few minutes previously, scared, confused and alone, stripped down of his outer clothes and tied by shackle and chain to the wooden frame of what appeared to be a barn. Terror had taken a hold of all his thoughts as he realized he was here alone, that Dean wasn't here with him; he knew that something bad must have happened for his brother not to be there, and the panic that thought created had made him lose it completely; if Dean were gone, and to Sam's confused, tired, hurt mind, that could be the only answer, then what was the point of him carrying on? So he sat there, his knees bent, his head resting on them, tears falling, and a combination of shivers and sobs rippling his body.

He tried to still his trembling body as he thought he heard movement coming from the other side of the stall he had been placed in, hope once again flaring inside him that it could be Dean, that Dean could have been unconscious too and was just now waking up; but that hope was dashed as the movement got closer, Sam knew Dean about as well as Dean knew himself, and for his brother to make that much noise was wrong in Sam's eyes. Dean was loud, boisterous and noisy in everyday situations, but he had this streak that ran beneath the surface and was very rarely shown, a streak that was stealthy, furtive and silent, a streak that Sam knew he would be showing if he was there. He wiped the dew from his eyes as he waited to see the face of his abductor, something telling him that he was not about to like what he saw.

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He gagged as he rested, wishing he had had the strength to wash first before he had been reverted back, the smell of the sewers overpowering his senses, but washing had not been a priority at the time, getting his prize settled and ready had been. Now though the desperation to rid himself of the foul smells was growing, and the thoughts of having been forced to walk through those offensive, distasteful smelling tunnels was feeding the anger that was growing once again inside him; how could someone of his stature have been forced to stoop so low? Oh they would pay for this, they would all pay dearly, starting with the boy. He had known the minute his prize had woken up, could feel the fear that flowed from him in waves, could hear the sobs that he was trying unsuccessfully to hide; the emotions feeding him, making him grow in strength, strong enough to move his wooden limbs but not enough to revert back to human form, that he knew was going to take time, time he hoped he had the patience to with stand.

Standing up on limbs that felt like twigs, he began to edge closer towards the boy, wanting, needing to see the fear upon his face. He kept to the shadows at first, relishing the terror an unseen assailant was creating, but soon that emotion was not enough, he needed more, he needed a stronger reaction, he needed a sensation he had not felt in a long time; so he stepped from the shadows, cherishing the look of disbelief that registered on the youngsters face, and the fear that emanated from his being, fear that soon turned to terror the closer and closer he got. Reaching out his arm he began to stroke the soft flesh of the boys arm, before moving his hand to his face.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . .As always thank you all so more for taking time out to read, will be back soon with a new chapter, Peanut x**


	9. Chapter 9

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . . Whilst trying bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only loaning from the genius that is Kripkie.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . Sorry for the wait on this one, I'm working the shift I really hate this week, you go in too early to do anything beforehand, and arrive home so late you just have time to prepare dinner before bed. I hope that you'll forgive me once you've read the content? Catch you soon, Peanut x**

Relaxing his aching bones the best he could against the cold metal door of Caleb's truck, watching the monotonous scenery endlessly fly by as the big v6 engine ate up the miles, John bit back the feeling of nausea that arose and thought back to his earlier conversation with the younger hunter. Caleb had reluctantly turned back John's way as his friend asked about his youngest son's health and well being, hating the fact that he would have to pass on news he knew would break John's heart even more. Rubbing a hand over his face and through his closely cropped dark hair, he took a deep breath before replying. "John, I'm so sorry. You received a call, I tried to wake you but you were so far under, so I took the call. It was the police calling from the hospital in your town, they found your number in Dean's belongings as they got him ready for surgery."

"Caleb! Surgery? Why is my son going into surgery? Just what the hell has happened Caleb, what's wrong with Dean, and where is Sammy? Why didn't he call me?"

"John, they didn't go into too much detail after I told them we was on our way, but it seems Dean has to have some work done on one of his arms." Caleb paused before giving John the rest of the news. "John there was some sort of incident at the mall, Sammy was choking so they placed him and Dean in the little first aid room they have, when they came back to check on the boys Dean was bleeding."

"And Sam? Caleb, what the hell has happened to Sam?"

"Sam was gone, John. They said that there were signs of a struggle, but they wont know more until Dean wakes. John, you know no matter what state Dean is in we'll have to get him out of there." Caleb took his eyes off the road for a few seconds as John failed to answer, the sparse streetlights allowing him to see the look of devastation clearly written all over his face. Turning back, and pressing his foot a little harder on the gas, he spoke once again, his tone quiet, yet tinged was malicious intent. "We will find Sam, John. He'll be okay. And we will make whoever took him pay, I promise you."

John though didn't reply, his emotions all over the place as he thought about his baby boy alone and scared out there with god knew what, or who. His innocence, that John had worked so hard to maintain slowly being taken, as he witnessed just how dangerous this world could be. He choked down a sob at the thought that he had failed Mary yet again, one son hurt and in surgery, one son taken and possibly. . . . . . . . . . . . . .He pushed that thought away, unwilling to think that way, Sam would be fine, Sam would be okay; he had to be, otherwise his small family would shatter and disappear into the wind. He ignored the feelings of guilt that threatened to crush him, there would be plenty of time later to wallow in that despair, channeling all his feelings instead into anger, his fury at the one who had done this increasing, and vengeance, at least for now becoming all consuming.

"Caleb." He spoke after a few minutes. "Drive faster!"

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John's own aches and pains were protesting harshly by the time the black ford pulled to a stop outside the emergency room doors, it's tires screeching and throwing up thick smoke as the brakes were slammed on, but he was still opening the door before the truck came to a halt and was pounding the short distance to the automatic doors, the pains forgotten as his need for information arose; his impatience showing as he shoved the doors aside, their slowness stopping him from reaching his child. He stormed up to the information booth, his own bruised features, and stormy look immediately frightening the young girl behind the desk. Seeing that he was frightening her, John altered his features knowing that he would get nowhere if he scared her so much she alerted security. Using a charm he had long since hidden deep behind grief and revenge, he spoke gently, calmly gaining the information he needed before racing for the elevator, taking a quick glance at the dial before deciding it would be quicker to take the stairs, hearing Caleb's boots echoing off the floor as he pushed the door aside.

Both men took the steps three at a time, barely breaking a sweat as they raced up the four flights, dragging open the door at their level and once again storming to the booth that held the knowledge they needed to hear. "My name's John Winchester, I was told my son was here, where is he?"

The nurse, used to distraught parents barely batted an eye, as she quickly checked her screen before responding. "He's in recovery, I need you to fill in some information, if you'd like to take a seat whilst you're doing so, I'll go and see if the surgeons free to speak with you. Also there are two policemen who would like to talk to you too, I'll send them across." With that she passed over some forms before walking away, her shoes squeaking loudly on the polished linoleum.

The police arrived first, at seeing Johns' bruises immediately changing their stance and opinion of the man, their thoughts already wondering if this could be their suspect in the missing case of young Sam Winchester, John's depth of worry and concern for both his children though putting those thoughts at ease. They were halfway through their recount of what they knew when the surgeon arrived, John leaving the police with Caleb as he followed the middle aged man to a separate room, anxiety crushing him as he waited for news about his eldest boy. He chose to stand rather than take the seat that was offered, fidgeting from one foot to the other, waiting for the man to speak, his heart plummeting when he finally did so.

"The injury to your sons arm was extensive, we were worried for a time that he would lose some if not all ability within the limb, the axe slicing deep within Dean's muscle and tissue reaching the bone at some points." John's face blanched as he heard the word axe. "We had to risk the surgery even though his blood pressure was low, and I'm happy to say he made it through without any complications, and is resting in recovery at the moment, once he's been moved to a room you will be allowed to visit him. I will say though that he will have a long recovery ahead of him, a recovery that will at times be especially hard as he loses patience with how slow things progress, he does seem like a strong person though and with time I have no doubt he will regain all movement in the limb. Do you have any questions?"

Still reeling over the fact that Dean had been attacked with an axe, John could only mutely shake his head in reply. "Okay, I need to get back and check on Dean, I'll send someone for you just as soon as he is settled, we will be keeping a very close eye on him for the next few days, he took quite the bump to the head as he fell, so we'll be waking him often just as a precaution. If you do need to ask me anything, have me paged." With that he walked out of the room leaving John alone with his thoughts, the nurse finding him there still stationary when she came to let him know he could see Dean. John following her morosely along to the private room, stepping past her as she held the door open, ignoring her comments about visiting hours, his mind consumed with guilt as he took in the sight of his eldest son, left arm raised and swaddled in bandages, gauze hiding stitches on his forehead, looking very much younger than his age dwarfed by the bed he rested upon.

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The bright light of a nearly full moon spread across the cloudless sky and illuminated the barren landscape below, it's rays picking out the sharp stubble left over from harvested corn that graced the fields that surrounded the dilapidated wooden barn that had once stood so proud, but was now little more than an eyesore as the fields owners had invested in newer sturdier metal ones. Bitingly cold air created by the clear sky whistled through cracks and tears in the wood, to chill the atmosphere inside even more, causing one to tremble all the more, and the other to smile. As he rested and regained the strength he would need to bring his plan to fruition, he watched over the boy, smiling all the more at the sight that befell him. His ministrations had broken the child even further, allowing feelings of failure to rise within the youngster, feelings that he would manipulate to his advantage when the time came.

He switched his mind off even further as the need to regain the strength quicker arose, he wanted this finished, fifty years had been too long. He closed his wooden eyes and became the puppet he was, happy in the knowledge that this time tomorrow, he would be so no longer. As he dreamt of revenge, and riches, and life, Sam lay trembling in a combination of cold and agony, shut off and alone. His fevered mind caught in repeated reruns of the things the nutcracker had done, his chest smarting where the skin had been carved into, his mind numbed by the caresses the wooden hands had administered, and the knowledge of just what was out there, his heart shattered at the words that had been spoken, words that mentioned disappointed fathers, and brothers who no longer loved him; with these thoughts and more running through his head, Sam closed himself off, shut his eyes and dreamt of death.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . I hope that you enjoyed, thanks as always for reading, Peanut x**


	10. Chapter 10

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . Whilst trying to bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Not mine, just toying with Kripkies creation.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . Okay then, well as some of you might have already heard, a group of seriously talented writers on here have decided to band together to create a series of one shot and for some reason, known only to themselves, invited me along for the ride. It's all about being as descriptive as possible, we each write a scene and then pass it along to another writer to finish, and from the snippets I have received so far, you are all in for some amazing reads. They're going to be posted under darksupernaturals page, under the title Winchester Single Shots, so keep your peepers open for them. Just in case you wanted to know the players are, so far there's Me, darksupernatural, sammygirl1963, Emerald-Water, Soncnica, V.R. Jennings, vonnie836, DancerInTheDark101, and Merisha.**

**Anyhow enough of that for now, on with the chapter, as always thanks for reading and enjoy chapter 10.**

John thought his mind was going to scream at him as he sat morosely in a chair that was too small, and too hard, waiting for his eldest son to wake. Frustration at being able to do nothing to help either of his sons angering him; he couldn't take Dean's pain away, couldn't ease his son back to wakefulness, and without Dean's help and knowledge he could do little to help Sammy, a thought that ate away at him with each second that passed, so he sat, and he waited, and he stewed. Caleb had left earlier, unable to sit there and do nothing whilst Sam was still missing, returning to the scene of the crime to see if he could gather any evidence; evidence that would otherwise go unnoticed by the police, evidence that would speak of supernatural beings being involved; but his last call to John had been taciturn and remorseful. There was nothing, no sulfur, no emf, no cold spots, nothing. He was on his way back now, empty handed and pissed, calling in favors and back up as he drove.

As one hand held onto his oldest sons undamaged arm, his fingers offering the only comfort he could give, John offered up yet another pray to the God he had long since stopped believing in, a pray that asked for the waking up of one son, and the safe return of the other. He rubbed his hand across a face drawn with weariness and sadness, before settling his aching head in it's palm, his eyes turning to watch the flashing lights, rising spikes and changing numbers of the machines that surrounded his eldest's bed, missing at first the subtle moving of Dean's fingers, unable to ignore the groan that was emitted as memories were remembered creating fear and worry in the middle Winchester, and causing him to try and rise from the bed, his need to protect Sam crushing him, over riding all other thoughts, making him think for a moment that he was still in that room, where that beast still lurked, only realizing his mistake when his body protested the sudden movement, and arms forced him gently back to the bed. He still tried to break free though, his mind still eager to help Sam, until smells assaulted his sense, and he recognized the hands to be them of his father.

"Dad? Sammy?" He gasped out, hoping that his Dad would understand, the few words grating on his dry parched throat, draining him of the few reserves he still had stored.

Knowing that his son would sense his lies immediately caused John no end of grief; damned if he did, and damned if he didn't, he knew he would cause Dean pain no matter what he said. Taking a deep breath he decided to go with the truth. "Sam's missing son." Seeing Dean's monitors begin to rise, he added. "Dean, you need to calm down, you'll be of no help to Sam, if you pass out. I need you to stay awake. I need you to let me know what happened. I need you to tell me what took your brother." He watched the different emotions as they flickered across his sons face, guilt, grief, frustration, anger, and what was that? Doubt? Speaking again John asked. "Dean what did you see?"

Confused as he was, Dean was uncertain as to how to answer. Would his Dad believe him? Would he think he was lying? With Sam's life on the line though Dean knew he had no choice but to tell his Dad what had happened. He motioned for a drink, greedily downing the refreshing fluid, before relaxing back onto the pillows, as his eyes found the grief stricken ones of his father he began to tell his tale, fear of being mocked making his voice sound small and youthful. "Dad, it was a. . . . . . . .why bother, you'll never believe me anyway."

"Dean, please, tell me what happened. I promise, no matter what, I will believe you."

"Dad, itwasanutcracker." Dean rushed out.

"A what?"

"It was a nutcracker, Dad, a creepy, freakin' nutcracker."

John smiled at first, thinking his son was mistaken, only for that smile to ebb as his son's face turned into a mask of fury, his trembling body attempting to rise once again. "I knew you wouldn't believe me! After everything that we have seen, why do you not believe me now? Sam is out there with a freaky ass wooden doll, and you're sat here mocking me!"

"Dean, calm down, I believe you, it's just. . . . . . . . .I've never heard of anything like this before."

"It's not that unusual." Caleb's voice chimed in from behind John. "There's plenty of voodoo lore that speaks of curses that could turn humans into puppets or dolls, nutcrackers were popular things back in the last century, it could be achievable that someone was turned into one."

"But how does that help us find Sammy?" John spoke out, his mind already churning over the fact that they had no trail to follow, no way of finding his son.

"He must be trying to turn back into human form, I'm guessing he saw something in Sammy that he didn't in Dean, he must have to do some sort of ritual. I'll get Bobby to look into it, see if he can figure out a what the creep would need to perform it. Jim's on his way to sit with Dean." He could see his words irritate John's eldest and looked him in the eyes as he added. "Dean, I know you want to help, and you can by getting stronger, I have a feeling Sam will need that strength when we get him back." Turning back to John, he finished by saying. "Once he's here we'll start looking into abandoned places. He's gotta be close, John, and if he is, we'll find him."

Sam wallowed in a pit of despair, his body aching, trembling with cold, yet burning, sweating with fever, his mind warped by hallucinations and visions; visions that created creatures that even in his confused mind he knew could not be real. At one point he was sure there had been a doll here with him, a living doll, that breathed and spoke and moved like a human, but had hands that were cold and rigid as they stroked across his cheek. At another point he had dreamt that Dean was here, this dream easing his fears, comforting his sickened body for a while, until he heard his brothers cry of pain followed by a sickening thud, and those fears returned tenfold, clashing with his desperate need to help, to know Dean was okay; his body resisting his attempts to rise, resisting his attempts to help, his strength dwindling after pushing his heavier than normal frame mere inches of the floor, sending him crashing back down to the cold earth where he lay shivering, sobbing, praying. His emotions feeding the beast that lurked in the shadows.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . Sorry about the wait for this chapter, work has been a bee-atch. Will try and not keep you waiting too long for the next chapter, catch you soon, Peanut x**


	11. Chapter 11

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . . Trying to bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean inadvertently places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only playing with those that belong to another!**

**A.N. . . . . . . . Sorry about the delay in posting, and for not finding time to personally thank everyone for reviewing last time. RL took a hold of me this week, and the site's technical glitches didn't help. I can only hope that the content of this chapter makes up for it. Catch you soon, Peanut x**

Hours passed by with John alternating between watching Dean reluctantly sleep, and dragging his tired, weary, and worried body back and forth across the worn linoleum flooring. Caleb, determined to trawl his way through every book and tome he could find until he found the answers, had left again soon after Dean had dropped back off, the remnants of the anesthesia taking the middle Winchester under no matter how hard he fought to stay awake, which left John alone with his thoughts; thoughts that contained nothing but gloom and guilt. As the time ran by, the sky outside the window changing from night to day, John let guilt consume him. How could he have left? He knew Sam was ill, how could he dump the responsibility to look after him on Dean? Caleb didn't need him specifically on this hunt, he could have gotten someone else, so why did he go? Deep down he knew the reason and it ate away at him all the more. It was because he didn't like the memories a sick Sam brought back, or should he say the memories a comforting Dean did. He looked and acted so much like his mother as he offered reassurances to Sam, as he held Sam close offering heat and comfort after a bad bout of nausea, as he coaxed Sam to eat and drink, as he sang to him. That was why John had left, now he could only hope he was given the chance to make things up to his boys.

He was brought out of his mulling, his body instantly tensing, his hand immediately finding its way to his gun hidden in his pocket, as the door to Sam's room was noisily opened, before relaxing. "I could have shot you!"

"Yes, you could have, but you didn't. You knew that anyone wanting to harm either Dean or yourself wouldn't have created so much noise."

"That and I recognized the aftershave you receive every year. I'm surprised that I couldn't smell you from the car lot. You really should stop wearing it Pastor, you wouldn't exactly be inconspicuous in a hunt. How are you Jim?"

Jim walked over to Dean, checking the boy over with his own eyes before offering a quick pray for a speedy recovery. Looking back John's way he finally replied. "I'm fine, I'm more concerned about you. Have you even slept yet?" He watched different emotions cross John's face in lieu of an answer before adding. "You'll be of no use to Dean, or Sam, if you're too tired to help. I've asked the nurses if there is anywhere that you could get some sleep and they recommended the motel across the street. I booked a room and I want you to go and get some rest. I'll look after Dean."

Anger and concern evident in his response, John shot back. "And what about Sammy? Am I supposed to just sleep away the day and forget about him? Whose gonna look after my baby boy? I should be out there looking for him, begging him for forgiveness, not snoozing whilst he's god knows where."

"And do you know where to start looking?" Jim calmly replied. "Do you know how to defeat this Nutcracker? Then what use will you be? You know deep down I'm right John, for once stow away your stubborn pride and listen. Go get some rest. Caleb and Bobby are looking for answers, and you know they are the best at what they do. They know the number of the motel, they'll call you when they no more. The boys need you to be strong."

John knew that what Jim was saying was true, he should rest and gain back his strength, he had a feeling he was going to need it; and he should allow, and trust, Bobby and Caleb to do the research, they were the best and he knew his patience could not stand the long hours of trawling a hunt like this would need. Reluctantly he acquiesced, walking over to his eldest he brushed back the spikes that had wilted and dropped to his forehead, planting a soft kiss on his brow and murmuring words to low for Jim to hear, before standing and moving to leave. "Two hours."

"Five!"

"Three and that's my finally offer."

"Done! You're not to be back here before three hours, and you have to get something to eat also." Jim shouted through a door that was slowly closing.

Ignorant of how tired his body actually was, John had left swearing to himself that he would shower, change, eat and return as quickly as possible, despite the wrath he would receive from Jim; a wrath he had experienced before, and if it wasn't for the fact his child was in danger, would be reluctant to feel again. Things though never go according to plan. Sitting down on the soft, pleasantly clean bed, John had rubbed a weary hand across an equally weary face before placing his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands, sleep consuming him within seconds. He couldn't even remember dropping to his side and bringing his still boot clad feet up off the floor, so dead to the world was his body.

A constant drilling broke through his unconscious state sometime later, John turning away from the noise, his body still craving rest he had been neglecting to give it. But the noise was persistent, penetrating his brain until he recognized it for what it was. The phone. Jumping up, all sleep for now forgotten, he picked up the receiver coughing to clear his throat before answering. "Winchester."

"John, it's Caleb, Bobby's with me and we're heading your way. Be ready for us. We have an idea where Sam could be, we think we know what it is and what it wants, and things don't look good. We have a thought on how to stop what it wants to do, but we don't know how to kill it. We'll be there in ten."

Completely awake now, John strode over to the duffle bag of weapons Jim had left, taking out a few items and placing them strategically around his clothing. Walking to the door, he stopped with his hand on the knob, lowering his head he spoke. "I'll get him back Mary, I promise you, I'll get him back." Opening the door he walked out.

His body shutting down as fever roared within it, Sam could only lie on the cold stone floor, completely oblivious to the horror that stood before him. His trembling had long since abated, a testament to the fact that shock had taken complete hold, and hypothermia was kicking in. His eyes were sunken into their sockets, dark circles stark against the whiteness of his skin, fever spots the only other piece of color in his otherwise sickly pallor. The Nutcracker threw back his head in laughter, his excitement, his lust, growing as the hour drew near. This was going to be so much more simpler than he could have ever imagined, the boy feeding him, making him stronger by the minute, allowing him to start taking human form more easily, parts of him now staying human even when he rested. His face had changed, his jaw still hung loosely, woodenly, yet his eyes now shone, his nose had skin. His fingers and arms were the same, skin and hairs evident in places, wooden fixtures gradually becoming less and less. He stroked the boys cheek again, a chill coursing through him as he felt through fingers that were slowly becoming his own, and not some borrowed limbs, the boy move away from the cold touch. Taking a step back he whispered. "Not long now, and then you can rest for as long as you want." Laughing all the more at the small, sad sight before him he walked away to prepare his alter.

**A.N. . . . . . Thanks as always for reading, I hope that you enjoyed? Let me know! Catch you soon, Peanut x**


	12. Chapter 12

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . . Trying to bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean inadvertently places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only playing with those that belong to another!**

**A.N. . . . . . . . So here we are at chapter 12, as always I thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoy, Peanut x**

John had the door open and was jumping into the back seat of Caleb's jeep even before the car had stopped rolling, his eagerness to get to his youngest child growing with each second that passed, an ever increasing sense of worry causing acid to roll painfully within his stomach. Not caring to buckle himself in, he hurriedly spoke. "What did you find out? Where's Sammy?"

It was Bobby who eventually replied, Caleb's focus centered on driving and getting to Sam before it was too late. "This is some ancient mojo crap Sam's landed himself in John. Hell it was pure luck we even found reference to anything even remotely similar. We think it's a human, John. We think it was cursed; we're talking seriously evil dark voodoo here. If the passage we found is anything to go by, the guy must have done some seriously bad deed, cause they only ever use that curse if the crime is horrific. The passage mentioned how to revert back to human form, and what you would need to do this. We need to hurry John; if I've read it right, it's feeding off Sam's fear and pain, and with Sam being ill he doesn't have much time left."

"Why? What will happen to Sam once he's reverted?" Bobby stayed quiet, but his eyes spoke volumes, the sadness radiating from them saying more to John than words ever could. "How do we find him? I can't lose Sam! If I do, I'll lose Dean too."

Knowing what John had said was true, Dean would leave them also if they were unsuccessful in getting Sam back, Bobby replied. "He needs an alter, and a space that's pretty big, and definitely remote. Offerings vary depending on which evil son of a bitch he's trying to please, but most are easily found so we don't even have that in our favor. The only thing going for us is that the ritual needs to be done at dusk."

"That's less than three hours from now! Do we even know where he is? Do we even know yet how to stop him?" John cried out in alarm.

"We have three locations in the area that look promising. We don't think the nutcracker would have risked driving too far from here, and taken a chance on being stopped, especially with the amber alert out on Sam. So these are the only options."

"And stopping it? What do we do when we find it?"

"We think we can stop the ritual, but apart from burning the wooden beast, we're not sure how to kill it. Even with that, there are consequences."

"What do you mean consequences?"

Bobby exchanged a brief glance with Caleb, who so far had remained quiet, the younger hunter speaking for the first time as he replied. "It could harm Sam."

"No way!" John shouted, his fists punching the back of Bobby's seat. "We'll have to think of something else."

"Don't you think we've tried?" Bobby asked. "Don't you think we would rather ourselves get hurt than Sam? But every scenario we've come up with so far, results in the same thing, Sam will get hurt. Your problem now is, would you rather Sam alive and hurt, or dead? I know what I would rather have happen."

John sat back in his seat, he knew Bobby was right, but it still hurt to know that Sam would feel pain. He wondered as they drove just how hurt his youngest son was, wondered if the cold that had refused to let him go, had worsened. He knew that the nutcracker wouldn't have cared if Sam grew weaker from sickness, it would have just made his job all the easier, all he could hope for was that Sam was still fighting, that the stubborn streak that ran through his youngest was keeping him alive.

John rolled across the back seat as Caleb took the turn to the first location at speed, the jeeps two left wheels leaving the ground before landing with a jolt that shook all three men. As the big car rolled closer to the barn, that could be seen through a gap in the trees standing off in the distance, Caleb brought it to a stop, the rest of the way would be taken on foot, stealth and surprise now their biggest weapons. Quietly exiting the vehicle, closing the doors carefully behind them, the three men set off across the plowed field that lay before the trees, wary of each step they took, ensuring that no noise was audible. As they approached the thin line of foliage they halted, eyes and ears alert for any sound, any movement in the vicinity. At seeing and hearing nothing they started their trek again, moving ever closer towards the barn.

John stood back as they finally reached the cracked and worn wooden sides, his heart already telling him what he needed to know. Sam wasn't here. The nutcracker wasn't here. They had chosen wrong, he didn't wait to check the building out, knowing they would find nothing but years old rusted equipment, and the faint pungent smell of stale manure. Looking to the east, knowing from the brief scan of Bobby's research, that the next barn was two miles further down the road, he started running across the field, hoping that if he took the road the crow flies he could cut that distance in half.

Determined to save his son, his legs had soon carried him past the row of trees and into yet another plowed field. In the distance he could make out the frame of a dilapidated barn, sturdier newer frames standing far behind it. He didn't know how, but his instincts screamed at him that this was the place. Taking off at a run once more, his thoughts centered on Sam, he never felt the sharp tips of reaped corn stalks scratch and cut into his flesh, his mind focused, his senses alert. Coming to a rest as he reached the rotten framework, John stilled and listened. Soft shuffling coming from inside aroused his senses. Bringing an eye to one of the cracks in the woodwork, he peered through, his breath catching as his dreams came true and his sight fell upon his baby, his eyes filling with tears, blurring his vision as he took in the sad sight that was his son.

A large table draped with red velvet, held his small son's lax body. No bonds were needed, as even from this distance John could see how sick and weak Sam was. On every corner of the table stood black candles, their wicks casting the only light into the otherwise dulling room. Tearing his eyes away from Sam, John scanned the rest of the room in hopes of seeing the nutcracker, revulsion turning his stomach as the puppet finally entered his line of sight, clasping what seemed to be a bronze vessel, and giving John his first glimpse of his son's captor. Flesh now covered fifty percent of the wooden creatures frame. Hair, now down to his shoulders, framed a face that was gradually taking on a human form. It was the eyes though that freaked John out, evil soulless orbs of black stared out from beneath hooded lids, their sights set upon his son.

Turning away from the crack and maneuvering further around the barn, John searched for a way in, his eyes finally spotting in the gloom loose boards in the barns frame, and a gap just big enough for him to fit through. Climbing through, he stealthily made his way towards where he had seen his son and the beast, his mind doing a quick inventory of weapons on his possession, his hand clasping tightly around the lighter and fluid he had in his pockets. He watched for a few seconds as the nutcracker raised the liquid filled vessel and started chanting, knowing he had no time to lose and praying that this would work, he took a deep breath and made his move.

To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .

**A.N. . . . . . . . Just a quick reminder, now that the time is getting nearer, the Winchester Single Shots will be posted soon. The first ones will be under our own pen names, with following rounds posted under darksupernatural's name. From what I have read so far, there's gonna be some amazing reads, so if you have a chance to, please give them a look, Thanks!**

**Will be back soon with chapter 13, catch you then, Peanut x**


	13. Chapter 13

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . Trying to bring some Christmas cheer to a sick Sam, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . Still only on loan from the evil genius that is Kripkie.**

**A.N. . . . . . . . Well by now, most of you will have heard about, or even read some of the Winchester Single Shots, if not take a look, you could be surprised!**

John could feel his heart thudding against his chest the closer he got to the nutcracker. So consumed with revenge and gaining it's own body back, the fiend continued chanting oblivious to the danger that lurked behind it's back; a danger whose rage was steadily increasing the closer he got to his son, and was able to see just how damaged his boy was. Sweat glued his youngest sons normally unruly hair to his head, and coated every inch of his body, a body that was ominously still considering the fever that raged within it. Divested of all but his boxers, John could see what a weeks worth of illness had done to his normally healthy looking son, his bones protruding starkly from beneath his skin, his cheeks hollow his cheekbones prominent. John heart sank as his eyes met Sam's, initially scared of a reaction that would alert the nutcracker to his presence, that fear dissipated to be replaced by sorrow, when all he could see in the normally expressive eyes was a dull glazed deadness. He pushed his feelings aside, determined he wasn't going to loose his sons tonight, he stepped forward.

Still focused solely on Sam, the chanting increasing in strength the closer he got to the end, the nutcracker never stood a chance as John quickly dowsed his partially wooden frame with the lighter fluid, the click and rasp of his lighter ominously loud in the now quiet room as he pushed on the flint, thanking whoever was looking over him, when it ignited first time. Without a second thought he pressed the flame to the saturated wooden body, and quickly retreated. The fluid erupted immediately, flames hungrily consuming the nutcrackers wooden parts causing John to stand and stare, a satisfied look upon his face; a look that quickly disappeared as Sam screamed. Looking over at his son, John was momentarily struck dumb as he watched Sam writhe and squirm upon the alter, screams of agony ripping themselves from his throat, the skin on parts of his body becoming raw and blistered as though fire was eating away at him. Breaking free from his haze, John started to ease his way towards his son, only to stop as a raspy, pain filled voice rang out.

"You kill me, you kill your son!" The nutcracker spoke before a cackling laughter erupted from inside the beast.

Torn between his obviously hurting son, and a beast that deserved to die, John hesitated briefly before turning towards the nutcracker. Taking off his jacket he quickly covered the burning body, rolling the wooden being across the floor in an attempt to put out the flames, his anger increasing as the beasts laughter still rang out. Standing as the flames were eventually dowsed, he turned his back on the charred figure and began to make his way to Sam, his son's screams abating now that the flames had died. He hadn't counted on the unnatural strength of the beast though, didn't hear the creaking and groaning of scorched wood as the beast stood, it's burnt, blistered hand grasping the handle of the knife John had stashed in his jacket pocket. He only realized his mistake as he felt the cold metal dig and grind it's way through the flesh and muscle of his back until only the hilt remained. He dropped to his knees as searing pain radiated throughout his being, a cry of complete agony escaping the confines of his mouth, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. He tried to move, tried to stand and help his vulnerable son as the nutcracker moved stiffly from behind him to look him in the eye, his voice chilling as he spoke.

"This will be so much better, I will feed off your fear, your anguish, your sorrow, as I take the life of the one you love." He ran a cold hand across John's face before turning towards Sam again, only to be halted as another voice rang out.

"I think you're missing a few items to continue on with there boy." Bobby ground out before averting the nutcrackers attention to the now bare alter.

As the beast screamed in pure rage, Caleb struck binding the beast tightly with rope before placing it on the alter that had previously held Sam. As Caleb dealt with the nutcracker, Bobby made his way over to John, his trained eye not liking the look that shone from the hunters eyes. "John? John? I need you to snap out of this."

"I hurt Sam, I hurt my baby boy."

"You didn't know that was going to happen, you didn't know. Sam needs you know though John, he's hurting badly and he needs you, so I need you to snap out of this and go to your son."

Glassy eyes turned Bobby's way, pain radiating from them. They blinked slowly, once, twice before light began to register in them again. A shaky hand rose to wipe away wetness from their rims before they looked from Bobby, to the alter, and back again. "Where's Sammy? Where's my boy?" John inquired, fear threatening to overwhelm him.

"He's by the entrance, he's safe for now. But he needs you."

Attempting to rise, John was immediately reminded of the wound to his back, crying out in pain as the blade moved within him. "Pull it out!" John ground out.

"I can't do that. It'll do more damage." Bobby replied.

"I'll be fine. I can't help Sam like this. Pull it out!"

Knowing how stubborn John could be, knowing if given the chance he would pull it out himself, Bobby acquiesced, ripping his own outer shirt off before pulling the blade out. Packing the shirt tightly against the wound, he bound it in place with John's own before helping the wounded man over to where his seriously ill son lay, his chilled body wrapped firmly in Caleb's jacket. Easing to the floor, John settled himself as comfortably as possible, his eyes requesting Bobby help as he pulled Sam into his lap. He struggled to contain his emotions as he softly stroked Sam's sweat soaked hair. As his hand ghosted over his sons sunken cheeks, John looked agonizingly towards his friend. "He's so cold Bobby, we need to get him out of here, he needs help."

"I know John, but we can't before we deal with the nutcracker."

"But we don't even know how to kill it. We can't burn it, I tried and look what I did to my son in the process. How the hell are we going to get rid of it, without killing Sam in the process?"

"We have an idea!"

**To Be Continued. . . . . . . . **

**A.N. . . . . . . Well that's it for now. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, and thank you as always for reading. Catch you soon with chapter 14, Peanut x**


	14. Chapter 14

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . . . Trying to bring a sick Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . . . Still only playing with Kripkies toys, but boy am I having fun!**

**A.N. . . . . . . . . . Well this is a super early post for me, but some reviewers requested a quick update and I had nothing else to do this morning so here it is, chapter 14. Enjoy! Peanut x**

"What do you mean, you have a plan?" John asked, his nerves frayed. "This is Sammy we're talking about here, do you know how to kill this thing?" He whispered out, his voice menacing.

Bobby placed a hand to his gradually graying beard, his fingers nervously playing with the coarse hair. Turning sorrowful eyes John's way, he answered. "No." He held up a hand, to stop John's barrage before adding. "But we think we can contain it."

"What are you going on about? Contain it? I want it dead! I want to be able to get Sam out of here. I want him to not have to worry about this thing for the rest of his life. I want it smashed, and chipped into little pieces for what it has done to my son."

"And you think that Caleb and I don't? You think that we don't care about what it has done to Sammy? You're a stubborn fool if you really think that John. We care about that boy as if he were our own." Bobby curbed down anger that had risen within him, and took a deep breath before finishing. "Look at what trying to burn the beast did to Sam, John. Do you really want to take a risk? Do you really want us to chip away at it? Do you really want to see if the burning that Sam received was a one off? I don't wanna take that chance. The solution we have isn't ideal, but it's better than harming Sam even more. Seriously John, look at your son, does he look as though he can take much more?"

John turned watery eyes Sam way, guilt eating away at him as he took in the raw, redness of the burns that stood stark against the otherwise paleness of his skin; the shrunken eyes and cheeks; the wasted away body; and the desperate attempts of battered lungs to drag in air. Sam needed help, not another dose of hurt. He placed a quick kiss to his son's damp forehead before looking back Bobby's way. "What do you have planned?"

John's face paled as he listened to Bobby's plans, not liking one bit the thought of what he would have to do. He silently thanked the older man as he walked away after reciting the first part of what was going to happen, giving the two Winchesters a moment to themselves. John lifted his damaged son further into his arms, remembering times past when Sam had wanted loving all the time, only to receive it when he was too ill to remember, all other times he was pushed away as John claimed to be too busy. He promised himself, as he held Sam close, whispering reassurances in his ears, that things would change if Sam got through this, that he would be the loving father both his sons needed. Caught in the moment, John didn't hear Caleb approaching until the hunters hand clamped down on his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly aggravating the throbbing in his back.

"I'm sorry John, but it's time to do this. We're ready for Sam."

John gave Sam one more hug before reluctantly relinquishing hold of his youngest son. Caleb picked the young boy up with ease, cuddling the precious child to his chest before reaching down to help John stand. Once securely on his feet they slowly made their way over to where Bobby stood guard over the nutcracker. With it's mouth gagged, the beast was unable to taunt the men, but his eyes spoke volumes. The dark orbs radiating evilness, their sights set firmly on Sam, hunger and lust evident. With a shudder Caleb placed Sam next to the nutcracker on the alter, Sam's body subconsciously moving away from the cold evil they lay beside him.

Taking the vessel that the nutcracker had previously held, Bobby started reciting, the old text falling gracefully from his lips as he recited it over and over again. John blanched and rushed to grab Sam, as both the youngest Winchester and the nutcracker began to buck and rise off the table, only to have Caleb's strong arms hold him back. Profanities and abuse sprang from his lips towards the younger hunter, yet Caleb's hold stayed firm, knowing that if he let go and John got to Sam, the eldest Winchester would regret it. Tears fell from all three men's eyes as they heard the pitiful mewls that came from Sam, the longer the ritual went on, the cries of pain breaking each of their hearts, all three sighing in relief as Bobby's words trailed off and the ritual was finally finished.

As soon as Caleb's grip of steel was removed from John's body, the father rushed towards his too still son, dismayed to see the further damage the ritual had inflicted upon his gravely ill child. He cradled Sam's limp form to his chest, using all the strength he had, and pushing down the agony that flared in his back, he picked up his son determined his child would not stay a second longer than he need to beside the beast that had taken him. John looked Bobby's way, his eyes sorrowful and dewy. "Can we kill it now?"

Bobby's shake of the head no, nearly broke John completely. "He's still bound in part to Sam. I couldn't find a way to completely break the spell it made. Once it's tasted it doesn't stop. If we kill it, we kill Sam."

"So what can we do? I don't want Sam to be constantly looking over his shoulder. And I don't want him hurt all the more. How can we top this?"

As John paced nervously back and forth in Dean's room later that day, waiting not so patiently for news of his youngest son, Bobby and Caleb finished wrapping the last of the blessed bandages around the mummified nutcracker. Picking up the figure that had created so much pain they placed it inside a wooden box, symbols and wards visible, carved deep within the wooden structure. Closing the lid on the intricately patterned cedar, they locked it securely, Bobby reciting words over the hex box, protecting the outside world from the inside form. Placing it on a dust covered shelf, he left the caged room, waiting for Caleb to lock the metal door before both men exited the lock up storage unit and securely locked the outside door. Racing back to Caleb's jeep, they quickly headed for the highway, both eager to return and wait out Sam's fight back to life.

**To Be Continued. . . . . . . . . .**

**A.N. . . . . . . As always I hope that you enjoyed reading the chapter, and I thank you all for taking time out to do so. I hope that the quickness of the update makes up for the shortness of the chapter. Will catch you soon, Peanut x**


	15. Chapter 15

**The Nutcracker.**

**Summary. . . . . . Trying to bring an ill Sam some Christmas cheer, Dean unwittingly places his brother in danger.**

**Disclaimer. . . . . Still only playing with Kripkies toys, but boy am I having fun!**

**A.N. . . . . . . Thanks as always for reading, and I hope that you enjoy chapter 15.**

John collapsed into the stiff plastic chair, his knees buckling as the doctors words registered. "Some second degree burns to Sam's stomach, arms and legs. Carvings etched into his chest, infection settling in. Deep shock and hypothermia combining to aggravate the flu he had been battling resulting in pneumonia taking hold of his weakened system, a fever of a hundred and four raging within his son's body, a fifty-fifty chance he would not make it back." He dropped his head into his hands as the doctor carried on, few words making it past his guilt riddled thoughts. "Aggressive antibiotics for the pneumonia, fever reducers, fluid and nutrient I.V's, intubation to ease the stress on his struggling, debilitated lungs, naproxen to alleviate the burn pain and Mycitracin to prevent infection, a sedative administered to help his body receive the rest it desperately needed. . . . . ." The list went on and on, John's worry and guilt intensifying with each action that was announced.

He stared blankly into space after the doctor had retreated, his chair strategically placed to the side of Sam's bed, so that he could see both the door and the window, his heavy head resting in his hands. Although dewy, he refused to allow the tears that brimmed his eyes to fall, there would be a time and place for that after both his boys were fit and healthy again, right now he needed to be strong. He rubbed a hand through hair that felt dirty, gritty trailing the limb down his head to rest on the back of his neck, his head dropping to his chest, a silent pray sent out to anyone who was listening. He barely reacted as the door to Sam's room opened, in his heart he already knew who was entering, without looking up he spoke.

"You should be resting, getting your strength back."

"Sam needs me here."

"Sam needs you to be strong, that means rest."

"He'd be here if it was me. I'm not leaving Dad, don't try and make me, I'll always find a way back. Sam needs me."

John looked up into the distraught, drained face of his eldest son, the normally cheeky eyes, dull and saddened, a look of pure guilt adorning his features, self-reproach seemingly emanating from his very being. John felt his own guilt rise as he witnessed first hand what a hunters lifestyle had done to his children, an eight year old traumatized and facing a battle for life, and a twelve year old acting more like a twenty year old, accepting almost fatherly responsibility for a child that was only his brother, and blaming himself for something that was beyond his control. Deciding to start making amends for mistakes past from this moment on, John beckoned Dean to his side, pulling the reluctant boy into his arms once he had gotten close enough. He held tight even as Dean struggled to get free, whispering words all the while into his ear.

"It'll be okay. Sam will beat this. It wasn't your fault son, none of this."

As he spoke Dean's struggles gained in strength as he fought to get away from words and comfort he did want to hear or feel, words and comfort he didn't think he deserved, he spat back words of his own as his attempts proved to be in vain. "He was taken on my watch! How can this not be my fault. I should have been more careful. I should have kept him at home. I shouldn't have taken him to the mall." Tears began to fall the more he spoke, until great big sobs wracked his small frame, the rest of his sentences coming out stuttered as he fought against his emotions." He knew something was wrong, but he wouldn't tell me what, why wouldn't he tell me? I should have made him tell me. I should have made him tell me."

John held tighter to his son as he burrowed his face into his fathers neck, his body shaking as his feelings flowed. He gently stroked Dean's short hair, giving much needed comfort to a son that had been denied it for so long. He gently picked his son up and cradled him in his lap as exhaustion and pain won out and he cried himself to sleep, his own body giving out soon after, a worried nurse finding them both that way as she entered in the hope that the missing twelve year old would be in there.

For a week they watched and waited, prayed and promised, begged and beseeched, their hopes rising as Sam seemed to beat his fever, only to fall as infection set in, he'd beat the infection, only for his fever to come back; setting off a vicious cycle that the desperately ill child's body just couldn't seem to break out of. Bobby managed to persuade John to leave for a few hours every now and then as the wait increased, but no matter how hard they tried, Dean refused to budge from Sam's side, crying himself into fitful sleeps every night, talking himself hoarse as he told Sam just how brave he was, how much of a fighter he was, of all the things they would do, if his brother would just wake; yet Sam's weakened body and soul slept on.

Both father and son had been joyous when after ten days Sam seemed to have turned the corner in his fight, his fingers and toes twitching, his eyes roaming about beneath closed lids, his face creasing as he battled to wake, both men encouraging the youngest member of their family to keep trying, both men crying as with one last push, Sam's eyes finally opened; confusion and pain evident in the glassy orbs. Leaning over his baby, John spoke. "Hey son, it's good to have you back." As Dean whispered. "Well it's about time!" Sam responding with a weak smile, blinking tiredly once before succumbing to tiredness once more.

The more often he woke, the more often Sam astounded the doctors with his recovery, his strength returning with a vengeance as both John and Dean mollycoddled him so much, he fought to get back to health, anxious to get away from all the attention. By the end of the second week he was ready to be discharged with strict instructions to take things easy, and a list of medications and instructions, the only concern left was his inability to remember anything that had happened, the doctors informing John that in some cases when a person was a victim of a hideous crime, they would hide their memories so deep, sometimes they would never remember what they had been through, this was what he suspected in Sam. John's heart ached that one day Sam could remember, and be put through all this again.

As they waited for a nurse to bring a wheelchair, John stepped away from his poker playing son's eager to talk to Caleb and Bobby, wanting to know if there was any chance of the nutcracker making a return, and just what his attachment to Sam meant, Caleb answering for them both.

"It's locked up good and tight John, we shouldn't have anymore trouble with it. This is the only key to the storage unit." He said, as he handed over the small steel key. "You'll be the only one who'll be able to get in or out." He paused before adding. "A part of Sam will always be connected to it, but both Bobby and I believe that the ritual stopped the transference of Sam's energy for now, and that as long as he stays away from it, he'll be okay."

"So alls I have to do is never tell the boys about the lock up, and Sam will be okay?"

"Yes."

Sam placed his hand down, his full house beating Dean's two pairs, the seventh straight game in a row he had won. He'd started suspecting Dean of letting him win after the second game but had allowed his brother to continue liking the smile that lit up Dean's face every time he did. He looked over to the far side of the room towards where his Dad, Bobby and Caleb were conversing in whispers. "Dean? What are they talking about?"

"Probably figuring out who's gonna drive us to the cabin, just ignore them. You ready to get outta here?"

"I guess."

"What do you mean, you guess?"

"I dunno, I guess I'm just scared. I really want to remember what happened Dean. Why are you all keeping me in the dark? Why wont you tell me? Please Dean, what happened? How did I end up here?"

"Don't ask me that Sam." Dean replied, hurting inside at having to lie to Sam.

"But. . . . . . . . . ." Sam started, not seeing Dean's discomfort, or his gradually increasing anger at being put in this situation.

"Sam!" Dean ground out, instantly regretting his tone as Sam shrank into the bed.

"I'm sorry Dean, I didn't mean to pry, it's just hard you know."

"I know Sammy, and I'm not mad at you, I promise." Dean answered. He turned away trying to calm his anger back, not realizing how his actions would look to Sam.

Sam's stomach lurched as Dean turned away, he hated not remembering, hated what his constant asking what happened was doing to his brother. Reaching down to the bag he had asked his Dad to bring in, he pulled out the presents he had spent so long lovingly wrapping. Tapping Dean on the shoulder, he waited for him to look his way before handing them over. "I'm sorry they're late. I hope that you like them?"

Tears sprung to Dean's eyes as he looked at the two small Christmas gifts. "I can't take these Sam, I don't deserve them." He spoke as he tried to give the presents back.

Sam's own eyes watered, thinking he had yet again upset his brother. "Why Dean? Have I done something wrong? Why wont you take them?"

"I'm not a good enough brother to deserve these Sam."

"Dean, you're the best. You take care of me, you always put me ahead of yourself. You deserve these, please take them."

Picking up the presents, Dean nodded his head. Slowly opening the gifts he pulled out a brand new ACDC t-shirt, and a cassette for his walkman. He coughed and wiped at his wet eyes before turning back to Sam. "Thanks." He said before adding. "Come on, lets get going." Leading a still unsteady Sam over to the chariot that awaited him, Dean took the handles and led his brother out of the room, a new determination to always look after Sam growing inside him.

He lay bound and waiting, biding his time until he could rise again, his revenge now turning away from the people who had originally changed him, his rage now fixed on a new enemy, one that one day would pay.

The End.

**A.N. . . . . . . . Dun, dun, dunnnnnn! Sequel anyone? I'd like to thank everyone who has read, reviewed and added this story to their favs. I hope that the ending was okay? I'll be back soon with a new fic, until then, take care, Peanut x**


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